For those readers who have asked how far along Rosy is in her pregnancy the answer is 30 weeks give or take a day. That means she has 10 weeks until the baby or should I say Kitt is due.

I will add a quick note for those who keep complaining about my use of the word yous. In Australia this word is often used as a plural of you when 2 or more people are involved and in times of stress Rosy tends to fall back into the poor grammar of her childhood.

Mygypsy

Rosy’s story:

I feel numb and strangely detached as I stare at my hands where they are clasped in my lap. I am aware of the movement of the vehicle I am in, but it fails to disturb me as I am taken further and further away from where I once lived. I know I should protest, that I should fight, but the voice urging me to fight is a very faint whisper in the back of my mind. A large hand comes into my line of vision and clasps one of my hands gently, the fingers firmly interlacing with mine.

I don’t move. I don’t react. I feel his touch but it means nothing to me. I don’t turn my head to look at him. It would have no meaning for me if I did. The wrongness of it fills me. The wrong tom, and heading in the wrong direction. I reach out with my mind seeking comfort and reassurance but I come up against a wall of anger and hurt. Anguish so deep it bleeds through into me and I squeeze my eyes shut against the tears that well in them burning fiercely. Pain burns in my chest like a raw wound. Each breath, each heartbeat, sending a throb of agony through me.

I’ve been hurt before, but never something as soul destroying as this. My chest burns and there is a buzzing in my ears and I gasp in pain. Oxygen flows into my lungs and blood stream making me realise I had been holding my breath. I become aware of a voice murmuring quietly to me, arms cradling me gently against another body. Horror shoots through me, No! I won’t think about her…it!

I blink as I focus on the eyes watching me with concern, the brown quickly becomes a dirty green and the golden flecks loose their clearness and brightness until a mottled grey/ green remains.

"Breathe Rosy, breathe," His breath brushes the hair at my temple and I blink as I turn my face away from his and into his chest. His scent is all wrong. It’s not the one I crave, the one I need. I close my eyes and inhale deeply forcing myself to memorise the personal smell but another flows through my mind and I press the knuckles of one hand to my mouth to stop my scream of pain.

I pull my mind and consciousness from the depths of my soul and shudder as her screams of pain rips through me. Claws rend and shred, sharp teeth bite and tear while her feline form writhes in agony. She fights my control, snarls and screeches at me but I am relentless. She refuses to submit and I am left staring into her vivid violet eyes.

He is mine …

I see the black form she flashes at me. I recognise him instantly. I remember him in human form, the emotion in his eyes as he spoke to me. His personal scent, what it felt like to be held by him, the sound of his voice. Gently, regretfully, I remember him turning away, his doubts, his insecurities, his lack of trust and faith in me.

Micah!

Her cry of disbelief ripples through me followed by her low moan of loss.

We loved him!

Her thought fills my mind as she accepts he turned away from us.

You loved him. I knew we could trust no-one. I can only rely on myself. No one else will keep me safe. I learnt that long ago. I tell her silently.

You never trusted him to keep us safe! She accuses. You never gave him the chance!

I see her disgusted look before she turns away and retreats to a dark corner of my mind. I feel her curl up in a tight little ball pulling her tail up around her body as if it is a shield she can use to separate us. She’d been so quiet and peaceful for so many months I had almost forgotten this power struggle between us. I had even conned myself into believing she was content with the way I let her emerge so frequently even though I control her every move most of the time.

His face flashes into my mind unbidden and I grit my teeth as I force it from my mind. I hear her faint grunt of annoyance, she wants to think of him, remember him. I give her a spiteful little poke to remind her who is boss. She opens one eye to glare at me balefully for a moment before she shuts her eye and ignores me. I consider goading her again but leave her alone. I know she will make me pay for that small attack, she always does.

My body feels heavy and slightly detached from my mind as I open my eyes and glance towards the window. The blur of the passing scenery makes me feel lightheaded and I close my eyes as I give my head a slight shake to clear it. The heat inside the vehicle makes it hard to open my eyes and I rub them irritably.

We’re going to sleep while we’re in the light plane so why bother fighting it?

I pull myself from the depths of my own mind, away from the werecat that lives inside me. Away from the memories and thoughts that are too painful to examine. I become aware that a strange lethargy is weighing down my limbs and my mind is hazy with a hated familiar thickness.

"You bitch! You let them drug me!" I scream as I struggle to sit upright away from the warm body I am leaning on.

I struggle and lash out at the blurry form I can see. I feel my fists connect but I am unable to judge the strength of my blows. Something solid brushes against my face and I turn my head and bite down hard, clamping my teeth around something that gives slightly.

"Shit!" The voice is masculine and the scent in my nose belongs to a clan cat.

I jerk my head back sharply only to find whatever I am biting is being pressed hard against my lips. My breathing is impaired as my nose is pinched closed and I am forced to release my grip as I open my mouth to breathe. I struggle briefly but find I am swiftly sinking beneath the murkiness of whatever drug I was given.

Time you learnt who is really in charge …

Even as I sink into the welcoming depths of sleep I realise I am in for a fight against the evil that lives inside me.

Micah’s story:

I open the door and walk into the quarters, I can’t help remembering that the fly screen on the door has been replaced several times because Rosy has ripped it when rushing inside or outside as a cat. That set of four long scratches in the floor just inside the door are hers, probably made as she leapt through an unbroken screen. I glance around the lounge room as I enter and head for the kitchen, there’s no trace of her. The room is unusually clean, the pillows gone from the lounge and mattresses outside in the warm sunshine airing out. I don’t need to be told this all being done for my benefit. There’ll be no lingering scent from where she has sat or stretched out to sleep. It will be as if she never lived here.

Except for the phantom in my mind, her voice calling out to me.

Micah, we need you, we love you.

Mitchell, Sam, Steven, Dwayne, Justin and Donovan are in the kitchen along with Stephan Willoughby. Everyone is watching as I walk into the room.

"Hallo Micah," Stephan says as he steps forward to shake my hand.

"Stephan," My voice feels slightly strange, as if it doesn’t belong to me. Maybe its because I spent nearly forty-eight hours or a bit more in cat form. I’d only changed back so I would be there when Jazzy was told how our parents fared.

"Hey partner," Steven’s voice is quiet and I nod my acknowledgement.

"Jazzy is over in the main house," Mitchell says. "She would like to speak to you and Dwayne as soon as possible."

"I’ll go see what she wants," I acknowledge and head for the door.

"Micah, wait a moment," Steven calls as I step outside into the sunshine.

"You want something?" I ask as I turn and face him.

Dwayne steps past me and I hear him stop a few paces away.

"Just wanted to let you know I’m here whenever you might feel the need to talk," Steven says quietly. "Anything, everything, whatever you want to talk about."

I guess he is the only one who understands how I feel about Rosy well enough to have any idea of what loosing Rosy has done to me. I give a nod and a faint smile, my very soul hurts too much to do more before I turn and head for the main house.

"We need to watch our backs at least for a while," Dwayne says as he falls into step beside me. "There is the likelyhood a few of the clans are not going to be too friendly towards us because of what Wade and Edwin done."

"That doesn’t surprise me," I say flatly.

"Wade is barely alive, whipped and castrated." Dwayne says emotionlessly. "Marissa is a mess, she’s had a total break down. Kurt Black and Sam said she couldn’t be held responsible for not trying to stop Wade because of how worried she was over Jazzy at the time. And apparently Sam had some choice words for Edwin,"

"What, he got off with the beating Sam already gave him and loosing a ball?" I ask bitterly. "What about …"

I stop the tirade I am about to unleash and grit my teeth as I continue towards the main house. I don’t want to think about Rosy, don’t want to talk about her or what happened but I can’t get it out of my mind. And her turning to Edwin when I asked her why she couldn’t love me … I think that sight, the way it had ripped my heart and soul from my body, will stay with me until I draw my last breath.

"I don’t know how Jazzy will take what has happened to Wade and Marissa," I say tightly.

"She already knows," Dwayne says. "I rang last night. I told Mitchell, he told everyone else a few at a time and then he told Jazzy so everyone was there to support her."

"I should have been there! I should have been the one to tell her!" I say as stop and turn to face Dwayne.

"You had your own shit to deal with," Dwayne says quietly as he walks past me.

I take a deep breath to argue then shake my head before following him. Last night I had been trying to loose my own pain as I ran as a cat. A strained laugh escapes me as I remember how Rosy used to do the same thing, escape into cat form, when things were too hard.

Damn! She’s everywhere and in everything!

"Abigail and Celeste are with her aren’t they?" I ask not totally sure myself.

"Yeah, Stephan, Aunt Abby, Steven and Celeste came over late yesterday afternoon when word began to spread about the hearing. The clan still has a few friends," Dwayne answers quietly. "And some previous friends who are sitting on the fence at the moment. Though Mitchell said he has received several nasty calls telling him to keep our warriors off certain territories."

"Good, she’ll need some help to get ready for her wedding," I say almost to myself.

"Mal Inness spoke to me before I headed home," Dwayne says quietly as we reach the back door of the house. "He has asked Malcolm and Chris to formally represent their Birth Clan."

"He’s not coming?" I ask dryly. Any Alpha failing to send some representative from their clan would be showing a lack of support and respect for Jazzy and Mitchell.

"Mal said he had some pressing business to attend to and isn’t sure if he will be finished in time to make it to the wedding," Dwayne explains. "If he doesn’t make it he will be visiting as soon as he can."

The kitchen and dining rooms are empty and I glance around, coloured post-it stamps are on most items of furniture in every room we have walked through.

"Jazzy?" Dwayne calls.

"In my room," Jazzy calls back.

I walk towards the hallway and hesitate for a moment before turning towards Jazzy’s room. It is in the opposite direction to where Sam, Mitchell, my brothers and I had shared rooms growing up. The memory of how Rosy had looked that very first night I had carried her into the house unconscious from a high fever and a severe infection fills my mind. My steps slow and I find myself stopping as I fight the urge to go and make sure she isn’t in one of the rooms ill. I know it is an irrational feeling but I can’t shake the uneasy feeling something is wrong with her.

"Micah?"

I look towards the sound of the voice startled. Jazzy is standing in her doorway watching me with a worried frown on her face. Dwayne is beside her, which is odd because I don’t remember him walking past me. I realise this is the first time I have seen my sister since I stormed out of the quarters two days ago. The first time since she had told Rosy, my Rosy, she was no longer welcome here.

"Micah?"

There is a thread of fear in the worry in her voice and I force a smile onto my face as I open my arms.

"Jazzy," I say and close my arms around her when she flings herself into my arms.

"Come on, let’s all go to the kitchen and have a cup of coffee," Jazzy says when she finally pulls back from our hug.

"What, not tea and scones?" I ask referring to Marissa’s fix all before I think properly.

"No," Jazzy says forcing a smile. "I prefer coffee. I am sure there are cold cuts or something in the fridge if you need to eat,"

"I hunted earlier," I say quietly. I don’t tell her I had only eaten a few bites before leaving the small kangaroo and resuming my wandering. In the kitchen Jazzy directs us to chairs as she and Abigail Willoughby check the percolator and put big mugs out by the sugar and milk.

"Aunt Abby, nice to see you," I say as I walk over to brush a kiss on her cheek.

"It’s always good to see all of you here," Abby says gently as she pats the back of one of my hands. I force a polite smile and turn away, I am not in any frame of mind to make polite small talk.

"Hi Celeste," I greet her as she hangs back a bit. Her hair is brushed forward and she peeks at me from the corner of one eye as she pauses in looking in the cupboard.

"Hallo Micah," Her voice is soft and slightly husky as she fiddles with her hair almost nervously.

The warm chocolate brown of her eye glitters behind the inky black curtain of her hair and I find myself giving her a genuine smile. I don’t know what it is about her but something touches my bruised and battered heart making me pleased to see her. Celeste blushes deeply and drops her gaze as she turns away. I am startled by the hard jab Dwayne gives me between my shoulders blades and I turn my head to glare at him as I sit down.

"You wanted to talk to both Micah and I?" Dwayne asks as Jazzy settles into her seat after handing us our mugs of coffee.

"As you both know I am getting married this afternoon," Jazzy says with a serious look. "Wade isn’t here to give me away, and considering what Edwin done Mitchell doesn’t want him anywhere near me. He still is my brother but … Edwin isn’t welcome either far as I am concerned."

"But you’d be fine with Wade being here if he was able?" I ask tightly. The past few days has left me dealing with a lot of anger and hurt I’d had no idea I was harbouring. I had known I was angry over what had taken place but I’d had no idea just how deeply the rage and pain had gone, now it was all coming to the surface and I was trying to deal with it.

"Actually, no I wouldn’t," Jazzy says sounding slightly surprised. "He is my father and I still love him as such, but I lost all respect for him when I learnt what had happened."

There is silence while Jazzy takes several deep breaths. She looks from person to person around the table before staring directly into my eyes.

"You’re not the only one who was hurt in all of this," She says firmly. "All of us have lost something to different degrees. Edwin is no longer welcome in the family he grew up in, Justin and Donny consider Wade no better than those rogues who kidnapped Donny and Rosy …"

I draw in a deep breath sharply at the sound of her name, just to hear it hurts.

"I lost my father, every girl measures the men in her life against her hero, her daddy! You and Dwayne are left to clean up his mess, and the entire clan is still in shock," Jazzy continues firmly. "We all hurt but we have to put this behind us and get on with life,"

I watch her as I fight to keep my composure. It’s hard not to throw at her I had lost more than everyone else, but this conversation isn’t about me, it’s about my sister and her wedding.

"Tell us what you want," I invite gently.

"I want both of you to walk me up the aisle," Jazzy states firmly. "I respect and admire both of you and don’t want to try to choose one above the other, so, both of you can give me away."

The thought of seeing Rosy again hits hard. My inner cat stirs anxiously and I shake my head to dispel the uncomfortable combination of excitement and dread.

"She won’t be here, neither Mitchell nor I have invited her." Jazzy’s firmly spoken comment makes something twist painfully in my chest and I look at her shocked. ‘She’ is Mitchell’s sister! Not to invite her to his wedding is … is unthinkable!

"You think I wouldn’t be able to handle seeing her again?" The accusation bursts from me.

"There are more than just your feelings to consider," Dwayne cuts in. "Besides, ever think she might not want to come back here? Even for Mitchell’s wedding?"

I get to my feet and move to the sink and gaze out the window above it. The large Morton Bay Figtree is in full view and it brings back another memory of Rosy. Beautiful, proud, defiant Rosy, descending from the tree at my demand when she had been set up to look disobedient by Wade. In my mind I see the ghost of my memory of her, flowing forward in a smooth deadly stalk. The image is so clear, so lifelike. I jerk my head sharply as I turn away from the window, I glance down at my feet avoiding the eyes I know are sure to be watching me.

"I won’t give you away," I say seriously and smile gently at my sister’s shocked gasp. "But I will hand you into Mitchell’s care for your future with him. You’ll always be my sister, you don’t get rid of me that easy."

"Micah!" Jazzy’s response comes breathlessly, nervously.

"I want only the best for you Jazzy," I tell her with a fond smile.

The spectre of Rosy retreats to the back of my mind but I can’t help the feeling she would have approved of my choice of words. I force myself to keep the smile on my face as Celeste and Abby murmur quietly to Jazzy. I catch the sober expression on Dwayne’s face and he gives a nod as he meets my gaze.

"I like the sound of that," Dwayne drawls quietly. "Handing our sister into the care of her husband, not ‘giving her away’."

"That’s my take on it," I admit.

"That sounds so sweet," Celeste murmurs very quietly and I glance her way. Celeste’s behaviour is a bit of a surprise as she has always been outgoing and friendly, never this shy and reserved around anyone that I can remember. Maybe it is simply because this is Jazzy’s wedding day and Celeste doesn’t want to draw any attention away from her friend.

"I hope you’re not planning on making us dress up in a suit and tie for this," Dwayne says dryly.

"Dress pants, shirt and a tie. And don’t complain," Jazzy scolds. "I know you two have clothes that match, navy blue pants and white shirts. I’ve already taken the liberty of having them dry-cleaned,"

"I guess everything is sorted then," I say as I glance back at Jazzy.

"One more thing," Jazzy says and looks down. I follow her gaze to see her watching her fingers toy with an orange post-it stuck to the table.

"Last night Mitchell and I discussed him and I moving into here," Jazzy says before lifting her head and glancing between Dwayne and I.

"I’ve marked a lot of the furniture with post-its. Each different colour has a different meaning. Yellow is storage, orange will go in the small cabin that will be built and other colours have their own meanings." Jazzy says evenly.

"Small cabin?" I ask curious. "This is the first I heard of it,"

"Marissa and Wade are being moved out of this house," Jazzy says firmly. I glance at Dwayne in surprise and find him watching me.

"Mitchell said we can’t turn Marissa out of the clan, she would have no place to go and she will need Wade. She will always need him," Dwayne tells me.

"I’ll need to speak to Mitchell about this," I say as thoughts of the possible hostility from other clans run through my mind. Away from the protection of the entire force of warriors Mitchell and Jazzy could become easy targets for aggression or attacks.

Raised voices outside catch my attention and I turn my head to listen intently. I glance at Dwayne and see he has noticed the noise outside as well.

"I’ll go and see what’s …" I begin only to have my words cut off mid sentence as the back door slams noisily and the sound of someone hurrying in can be heard. The screen door opens and closes more softly just as Donny rushes into the room.

"There’s trouble outside and Mitchell wants both Dwayne and Micah out there," Donny says as he glances around. Stephan walks into the room and is followed by Mikkarl.

"Donny, you make another phone call to the police," Stephan says firmly before glancing at me. "Human trouble,"

The two words are explanation enough and I head outside with Dwayne following behind me. As soon as I am outside the yard I spot the little blue hatchback stopped near the quarters. All of the warriors are gathered in a loose circle around it and I can hear the angry tones of Mitchell’s voice.

" …I repeat, you have two choices

– either get in your vehicle and get off private property or wait for the police to escort you off and if you decide on the later be sure there will be charges pressed!" Mitchell all but growls as I approach.

"I am not leaving until I know she is okay!" A feminine voice snaps angrily and I feel every hair on my head stands on end.

I reach the loose circle of toms and push between Sam and Malcolm to stare at the woman they surround. As soon as I see her some instinct tells me who she is. That voice, hell, even the way she holds herself.

"Who the hell do you think you are coming here …" I begin angrily.

"You! You’re him!" She exclaims as she turns to face me fully. Shoulder length fiery red hair whips around her face obscuring her view for a moment. She flicks it off her face with a very feminine motion of her hand. Both hands are planted on her hips as she sets her feet shoulder width apart while glaring up at me.

"You bastard! What have you done with Tawny? Where is she?" The little dynamo demands angrily. "If you’ve hurt her in any way I will make you regret ever meeting her!"

Rage boils within me as I get to face one of my rivals, and I can’t help admiring her beauty. Smooth latte coloured skin, cloudy green eyes, finely etched delicate face and full lips … my eyes drift down over her body. Slender and willowy but with fuller curves than Rosy … the comparison brings her identity to the front of my mind! HER!

LILLY!

"Get in your car and get the hell out of here before I do something we will both regret!" I snarl as I take a step forward.

"I am not leaving until I see Tawny!" Lilly declares angrily. She takes a step forward bringing us nearly toe to toe.

"I do not believe Tawny is not here." She says stressing each word clearly. "She would not just not answer her phone knowing how worried I am about her."

"Get. In. Your. Car. And. Go. To. Hell!" I say drawing on all my authority and channelling it into my voice. I watch as she blinks uncertainly, hesitates a moment, then takes a step backwards.

"Leave," I snarl the order. With each step backwards she takes I step forward until she backs up against the side of her car.

"Leave!" This time it comes out as a roar.

"You’re nothing but a fucking animal!" Lilly lets fly with unexpected spirit and I step back with an angry hiss as she jerks her door open to climb behind the wheel hurriedly. I can hear the loud pounding of my heart and the harsh sound of my own breathing as I watch the little car speed out the driveway. Rage churns inside me and my inner cat is so enraged I am surprised I didn’t change in front of her.

"Micah?" The tone of Steven’s voice tells me this is not the first time he has said my name but I turn away and stalk towards the shed where the workout equipment is kept. If I don’t release some of my rage with exercise I won’t be able to last through Jazzy’s wedding in a couple of hours.

I hear someone following behind me and I stop abruptly, "What do you want?" I demand savagely without turning around.

"We have about an hour and a half before we need to shower and get ready for the wedding," Dwayne says softly and calmly.

"If I’m not back in the quarters in an hour send some to come and get me." I snap the order out tightly before stalking away once again.

Rosy’s story:

I sit in an old-fashioned rocking chair staring at the wall on the other side of the room. I am in what is like a self contained unit connected to Alan Cumming’s house. I have two bedrooms, a living room, a small kitchen and a bathroom combined with a toilet. All windows have heavy-duty security screens on them and a cell like door sections off my apartment from the rest of the house. A half eaten bowl of muesli sits on a small coffee table beside my chair along with an untouched cup of lukewarm tea. The food supplied in the kitchen has little appeal to me and I have barely eaten since arriving here.

I close my eyes for a moment but open them hurriedly as I feel a presence. I grit my teeth and stare at the painting on the far wall but the unwelcome presence lingers patiently and I grip the arm of my chair tightly with my uninjured hand.

"Go away," I mutter under my breath angrily. The sensation of not being alone becomes stronger and the soft vibration of laughter moves through my mind.

I am not leaving you can’t ignore me. That won’t work, it never has.

I grind my teeth as a dark image fills my mind. A violet eye looks into mine for a few seconds before the beast moves. Dark glossy hide moves past, the faint patterning barely visible. I can’t prevent flinching as the sensation of fur brushes against the side of my face.

"Go! Get back where you belong." I snap angrily. I scrub at the side of my face with my good hand trying to remove the tingling sensation. I take a deep breath and hold it as I imagine the dark form being pushed deeper and deeper into the shadows. Only the gleam of eyes show in the darkness and I reach out with both hands to pull the solid doors closed. I can feel the coldness of metal on my palms and I nearly hiss with satisfaction as the doors close with an audible click. I take several steps back to admire the locked doors in front of me.

It’s not so simple. It will never be so easy again.

I watch in disbelief as the doors shimmer and seem to melt as the dark form steps through them. Rounded ears, long whiskers, sleek neck and shoulders. The body is slender but I spy the telltale fullness and the soft fluffy fur of the under-belly. Her tail moves in a slow, languid motion as if she is a contented canine but there is no mistaking her feline form.

"Go away!" I yell and find myself moving spasmodically making the chair rock.

You can’t ignore me anymore. I refuse to let you pretend like I’m not a part of you.

"Get back where you belong!" I hiss angrily as I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and imagine my hands pushing against that dark hide. I gasp in shock as my hands seem to sink into the dark form. I try turning sideways so my hip pushes against a front shoulder but her form seems to shimmer and melt as I move through her! I turn around to face her where she stands behind me but she is already moving back to where she was previously.

"Stop it!"

You are me, and I am you.

"No!"

We are one.

"No, no, no, no! Go away! Leave me alone!"

I can feel hair cutting into my fingers and I pull intending to hurt her but she has hold of me as well and I can feel the pain in my scalp as my hair is pulled. I swallow a sob and pull harder, ignoring the pain as her claws dig into my head. She shakes me roughly and I feel my head and shoulders bouncing against something behind me.

Stop it, stop it already. Enough…

"..I said stop it!"

I open my eyes hurriedly as a masculine voice penetrates into my awareness and I stare shocked at the face in front of me. For a moment I think it is Chris here with me in a place full of strangers, but then a strangers scent washes over me and I lash out with my feet in panic.

A Stray!

"Get away from me! Get away!" I scream even as he backs away hurriedly. I scramble to my feet frantically and back away from him only to find myself backing into a solid, warm wall.

"Steady on," The voice is behind me and the hands that grasp my shoulders are gentle but I jerk away and move so I could see them both as I backed away.

"Leave me alone! Go away, just go away." I demand frantically even as I recognise Jakob Perkins and Drew Dorrington two of Alan Cumming’s werecats.

"Hey, steady on, you know us." Jake says softly.

Yeah, we know them. They’re kind of cute. Invite them to stay for a while. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, I’m sick of your mopping around.

"Shut up! Just shut up! I don’t want them here, I don’t care what you want!" I scream in an effort to make what I want matter.

"Rosy look at me," Jake is urging over and over again.

Fear fills me over whelming me. I refuse to look at him even though I can hear him trying to sneak closer. All around me I can smell the acrid stench of cat, it increases my panic and I can’t control it. Cats, cats everywhere closing in on me from all sides. I glance around frantically but I can only see the one, him, off to one side. I manage a glance behind myself but can’t make out anything or anyone there. Hadn’t there been another cat here moments ago?

I’m still here, there’s no getting rid of me.

I spin around desperately trying to catch sight of the dark form I know is lurking nearby. I know that voice, that purring tone. Something bad always happens when it appears.

Huh? Bad? Explain…

"Go away! Stop harassing me!" I sob.

"Rosy!" There is a loud noise then my name is called again. "Rosy!"

The voice is familiar and I remember it is associated with a feeling of safety as I turn towards it hopefully. I recognise the man standing there, Alan, the name comes to me and I take a deep breath in relief.

The smell burns in my nostrils and down the back of my throat. Werecat! Not just a cat! A larger black cat stalking towards me, he stops and slowly changes into a man … black shadows chasing me, my muscles burn with exhaustion and I can’t get enough air into my lungs …

"Get away from me you bloody animal!" I scream as I grab something off the kitchen bench beside me and throw it towards him with as much force as I can muster. I don’t see if it hits him, I am too busy looking around for something else to use as a weapon to keep him from hurting me.

Fool, he doesn’t want to hurt us.

My sobs catch in my chest and rasp in my throat when they burst free. More images run through my mind, I know they are only memories but still the fear and horror tear at me. I am dimly aware of the sound of breaking glass or china, I know what the sound is, what it means but I can’t stop myself grabbing something else to throw.

You’re being silly! Stop and think about what you’re doing!

"Enough is enough!" A masculine voice orders as strong arms engulf me. I can feel a hard cold wall against my back and a strong, muscular body pressing against the swell of my stomach and my tender breasts. Something cups the back of my head and I find my face pressed forcibly against a chest where I can hear a heart beating. Hot sweaty male bodies pressing me down… Grasping hands and the ground hard beneath me… Hard cruel faces above mine …

Memories, they are all memories! Stop fighting! You’ll only end up getting hurt!

I feel dizzy and I am aware in some corner of my mind that I am hyperventilating. I feel my unborn child somersault in my stomach and I know he can feel my terror. I can smell werecat just beneath my nose and I bite down viciously as I strike out with both hands heedless of the cast on my broken arm. My reward is a soft startled grunt of pain and I brace myself for the beating I know will follow. A hand cups my chin and my face is forced to turn to the side, I feel material slip from between my teeth and I open my mouth to suck in much needed air.

"You mongrel! Dirty bloody cat! I hate you!" I scream abuse at my captor.

"Shhh, no one is going to hurt you," he croons softly to me but I am too smart to be taken in by his lies.

"Micah! Mitchell! Sam! Help me," I scream on a sob. Even though they are cats I know they are my last hope, that they will always protect me if they are here. Suddenly the memory of the break-up with Micah hits me and I stop fighting. I have no reason left to fight for.

"I … hate … you," I gasp between sobs. "I hate … the … bloody lot of … yous! …I hate all cats! Every single … one of you!"

I feel and hear the rumble of laughter in the chest beneath my cheek as I all but collapse against the hard body of whoever has a hold of me. Something deep in my chest hurts, an empty hollow ache and a profound sense of sadness fills my mind.

"Oh come on," He says with a dry chuckle. "You don’t hate your inner cat, none of us do. They are a part of what and who we are,"

He tilts my head back and I open my eyes to look up into his face. It’s Jake Perkins and he smiles down into my face as he raises his eyebrows. Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, I can feel them roll towards the hair near my ears and I sniffle noisily.

"But I do," I manage to get it out before giving a noisy gasping sob. "I hate … her most of … all." As I utter the words I realise they are true, I hate my inner cat.

"If it … wasn’t for her," I pause and take several deep breaths as I struggle to stop crying. " Strays wouldn’t chase me, catch me and do horrible, horrible things to me. This …" I look down between us and run a hand over the fullness that swells my body.

"Wouldn’t have been forced on me. But most of all I hate her ‘cause if she didn’t exist the Darnels would never have come after me and murdered my Daddy," I say bitterly and let my forehead rest against his chest. I feel the tears flowing down my cheeks. The harsh sobs that claw their way up out of my chest shaking my body as they go. I hear the concern in Jake’s voice as he lifts me up, talking to me as he moves. I don’t understand his words as he speaks, as they are lost beneath the low mournful sound within me.

You can’t hate me, I am you and you are me…

I cry until I have no tears left, until my eyes feel gritty and my throat feels raw. My breath comes in little hiccups and my head aches feeling as if it is stuffed with dry sawdust. Slowly I become aware that whoever is holding me is sitting on the lounge with me on their lap. There is a damp shirt against the side of my face and the steady rhythm of a heart beat beneath my ear.

I sniff loudly and raise a hand to rub at the stiff feeling skin on my cheek. My nose is stuffy but I get enough of a scent to tell me it is Jake Perkins holding me. I want to pull away from him, move away and sit in a chair by myself but I have no strength or energy to move. I hear a slight scuff as if someone has moved and then someone cups my lower jaw and turns my face away Jake’s body. A cup is held against my lips and I can smell a strong aroma of peppermint as Jake catches hold of my free arm and prevents me pushing the cup away.

"Rosy, here drink this," Alan says firmly. I press my lips together more firmly as I open my eyes apprehensively, I try to turn my face away as I find Alan leaning close but he tightens his hold on my face.

"It’s just something to help you relax," Alan says evenly. "I give it to my second youngest son when he has nightmares. It won’t hurt you, just help you relax and rest like hot milk or cocoa would."

I exhale sharply and struggle to escape their hold. I am scared it is some kind of drug to sedate me so they can do whatever they want to me.

Don’t be silly! They don’t want to hurt us. They’re worried about us. I can smell it on them.

Alan persists a little longer before releasing his hold of my lower jaw and straightening reluctantly. I can feel myself shaking as I watch him warily as I try to wipe my face on my own shoulder to remove the liquid from my lips.

"I won’t force you to take it," Alan says with a frown and glances down at the plastic cup in his hand.

Listen to what my senses are telling your stupid human part of our brain! Neither of them wants to hurt us! Smell! They just want you to stop freaking out!

"Just shut up and leave me alone! Go away and leave me alone," I yell at the soft murmur.

I won’t go away. I am here to stay, She gives a low rumbling growl of displeasure

"I can’t hear a thing, I’m not listening. I’m not listening," I chant frantically as I try to cover both of my ears with my hands. I fight against whoever is holding my uninjured arm. I catch sight of Jake as I turn my head, he has both of his arms wrapped around me tightly trying to prevent me doing what I want to.

Stop it before you hurt yourself! Getting upset is upsetting our kitt as well!

"Calm down, you don’t want to hurt yourself or strain anything." Alan says in a voice laden with concern. I stop struggling momentarily and look into his face. I see real concern in his eyes as he meets my eyes before dropping his gaze to my swollen belly for a second or two. I can feel my heart racing in my chest as I gulp air raggedly. There is the background roar of my pulse in my ears and I can smell my own distrust and panic.

"You’re not concerned about me!" I scream at him as wild thoughts rush through my mind.

"All you’re worried about is this kitt! That’s all anyone has ever been worried about! I don’t exist for anyone beyond this … this … this parasite inside me! No one cares about me! My brothers aren’t here! My so-called friends aren’t here! Well I don’t need them! I’ll show them … I’ll show the lot of you!" I stop ranting shocked by the words that have poured from me. I see sorrow and pity in Alan’s eyes as he turns away hurriedly and it sparks something inside me.

"I’m glad my brothers aren’t here! I don’t want or need them! As for this … this parasite I wish I would loose it! I hope it is born dead! It’s nothing to me!" The words spew forth like acid. They burn themselves deep into me and I am shocked to find that there is a tiny part of me somewhere deep inside that means those horrible, cruel, hateful words.

I’ll kill us both before I let you harm this kitt …

It feels like I am detached from myself. Like I have no control over what I am saying. It is almost as if each word is picked for it’s ability to wound and scar myself as well as others. A strange numbness begins to settle over me as I close my eyes and turn my face away from those in the room. Somewhere beneath that numbness an empty ache simmers away, slowly it grows in the silence of the room. I feel every beat of my heart echo in the empty void of my chest. I feel every breathy gust sweep through my throat as I breathe.

This is what no one caring feels like…

"If my brothers really cared about me they would be with me," I mutter to myself. I open my eyes to stare at the wall. My eyes feel dry and gritty from the excess of tears I have cried. My mind and body feel weird, somehow disconnected.

"It’s because they’re werecats they aren’t with me," I mumble.

Strangely my thoughts make no sense and complete sense at the same time.

The two different natures of our brothers don’t make it easy for them, one part human and one part werecat.

"I wish you would go away and leave me alone! I don’t want you and I certainly don’t need you! I wish you would go away and never come back!" I snarl at the dark shape watching me from the shadows.

"Here Rosy, have a few sips of this," It’s Alan again and I blink as I realise he is trying to get me to drink from the cup he is trying to hold to my lips.

"Don’t touch me!" I snap uncomfortably as he attempts to stroke my cheek. "I don’t like being touched!"

I like it. He has no intention of hurting us, he’s only offering comfort. I like the contact. I need it.

"Since when has what you liked or wanted mattered?" I think angrily as I turn my face away from the offered cup.

"Come on Rosy," Jake murmurs softly, encouragingly. "It’s only camomile and peppermint tea with some honey added. "It’s very soothing and relaxing,"

I become aware that he is gently massaging the back of my neck and gradually working his fingers up to rub the base of my skull. It is incredibly soothing and relaxing and I am barely aware of his movements as he turns my head. I feel a warm dampness against my lips, I open my mouth and take several small sips. The liquid tastes slightly sweet and is soothing on my sore throat as I swallow automatically. I hesitate as I realise what I am doing but the back of my head is cupped gently and the cup against my lips tips more liquid into my mouth. I exhale sharply through my nose but swallow the last mouthful of liquid and open my eyes to look at Alan uncertainly.

"It’s just herbal tea," Alan tells me gently. "Hopefully it will allow you to calm down."

"You drugged me!" I accuse and struggle briefly but I am exhausted and I soon stop trying to escape the rather comforting embrace I am held in.

"There were no drugs in it," Alan says calmly. "The herbs encourage a werecats body to naturally combat adrenaline produced when upset or stressed."

"I don’t know about anyone else but my inner cat is telling me he would like to stretch out on a warm surface in the sunshine and laze around," Jakob says lightly.

"Anything to get you out of work," Alan says with a slight laugh.

"What about your inner cat Rosy? What does she want?" Jakob asks curiously.

"Nothing." I snap instantly. "She has no say. I am in charge not her."

I refuse to let you lock me away any longer. We will do what I want as well as what you want.

"I haven’t shown you the fresh water spring and the swimming pond yet have I?" Alan asks. "Feel like going for a short drive?"

"Not really. I think I would prefer to stay here," I say uneasily.

"I feel like going outside and I want company," Alan says as he straightens up and extends a hand towards me.

"No," I refuse stubbornly.

Yes, oh yes!

"Stand up," Jake orders as he moves me off his lap and I find myself having to stand up or end up sitting on the floor.

"One of the first things you have to learn is even She-kitts and Queens have to obey an Alpha most of the time," Jake says in a calm even tone.

"I don’t feel so great, I need to go and lay down." I persist stubbornly.

No, I need to go outside!

A shudder runs through me as I close my eyes and bow my head. I ignore the voice from the dark shadows in my mind. I grit my teeth and refuse to give in as I fight to force her presence deep into the dark recesses of my mind.

No! I will not be denied what I need!

"Fresh air will do you the world of good," Alan states with assurance. I open my eyes and glance his way to find him watching me intently.

"I don’t feel well," I realise I am speaking the truth as the words leave my mouth. I have a pounding headache and I feel sick to my stomach.

"No doubt because of the way you are abusing and torturing your inner cat," Alan says firmly.

"How could he know what is going on inside my mind? How could he know how I am punishing you for all the bad things you have caused to happen?" I stare at him shocked.

Because I won’t be silent any longer