Marc opened the closet and reached in to pull out his suitcase. “Ow!” He snatched his hand back and looked at the four bloody scratches decorating it. Again? He grabbed the flashlight off the nightstand and pointed it into the dark recesses of the closet.

Glowing eyes appeared.

Clotilda, of course. “This is the last time you’re going to savage me, Clo. If you can’t be polite, you’re going outside to live in the feral colony.” He stuck one hand inside a shoe for protection and, hooking the shoulder strap, used it to drag both suitcase and cat out of the closet

The angry Himalayan hissed at him and stalked out of the bedroom.

Marc sighed as he watched her. Something needed to be done about Clotilda. But he wasn’t looking forward to the argument he’d get from Owen. He smiled at the thought that when it came to the cats, Marc’s lover was a pussy.

He tossed the suitcase on the bed and started gathering clothes for his visit home. Christmas with his mom and dad and his little brother would be wonderful. It’d been months since he’d found time to see them.

But despite looking forward to being with his family, guilt at leaving Owen home alone at Christmas pricked at him. True, as a Wiccan, Owen celebrated Yule and not Christmas. But still, they should spend both holidays together. This year especially. Because this year Marc was determined to introduce Owen to his mom and dad as the man he intended to marry.

In the eighteen months they’d been together, Owen had always found some excuse not to meet Marc’s family. So Marc hadn’t pressed the issue. Now having completed his Master’s degree in music, Owen might want to move somewhere he could put his education to use. And Marc didn’t want to risk giving the man even a tiny push towards leaving.

He heard the front door open and Owen call out, “Marc?”

“I’m in the bedroom packing. Did you have any trouble on the roads?”

Owen’s voice floated down the narrow hallway. “No trouble, they’re salted. But you should see the huge snowbanks in Kenston. It’s like driving through canyons.

“You haven’t been to town for a while—it’s like that here, too.” Marc wondered why Owen hadn’t joined him in the bedroom.

“Hey, do you know where the small heating pad is? Oh, never mind, I found it.”

Marc froze. No. Please, no. Owen had promised. Marc abandoned his packing and went to the spare bedroom they’d turned into a nursery and recuperation area for all the strays Owen seemed to attract. Pausing in the doorway, he watched as Owen folded towels and placed them over the heating pad inside a cat carrier. A telltale cardboard box sat on the floor next to him. Promising himself he’d remain calm, Marc asked, “What’s in the box, babe?”

Owen whipped around and color surged into his cheeks. “Well, when I dropped off Jenny and her litter at the rescue, somebody came in with a boxful.” His tone turned pleading. “Their mother was killed, and with the holidays, no one was available to take them—”

“So you volunteered.” Marc was not smiling.

“Well, yeah. But only for a couple weeks. Then I promise, they go right back to the rescue to be put up for adoption.”

Marc moved into the room, opened the box, and peered in. Four tiny orange creatures, all jumbled into a squirmy ball, were nested in a blanket. “These kittens aren’t even two weeks old. They need to be bottle-fed round the clock. And they’ll be here for at least six weeks.”

“I know. But I’ll take care of them.”

“Owen, we talked about this. You can’t—”

“But they’re orange.”

Marc could see the distress in Owen’s eyes. Owen still hadn’t gotten over how Gideon, the huge, orange Maine Coon, had moved on. They still saw a flash of orange near the river every now and then, enough to know he was still alive. But not finding him waiting every morning on the porch anymore still hurt Owen. “I understand. But we agreed—no more cats until we get rid of the ones we’ve got. And if you recall, we also agreed to limit the number inside the house to ten. These four bring our count to twenty.”

“I know, but it’s temporary. It’ll be much better when the pole barn is done. Then we’ll only have the newborns in the house.”

“That would be great, but the pole barn isn’t anywhere near done, and it’s going to take a lot of money to finish it. Money we don’t have because we spend it on endless food and litter and supplies.”

Owen scooped up the kittens and the blanket and tucked them into the cat carrier.