But until he felt like he’d made up for his deplorable loss of control, I would get none of that. At least not from my father. Michael, however, was undeniably impressed. Or maybe disturbed. Either way, he’d taken off his useless glasses and was squinting at me with his bare eyes. But he made no move to come closer. In fact, he might have actual y scooted a little farther away. Which was oddly satisfying. Unlike my father’s reaction.

“Well? Say something,” I demanded. Or rather, I tried to demand.

What actually came out was a mutilated string of vowels and sibilant consonants too strange for even me to comprehend, so my father shouldn’t have had a clue. But he seemed to understand, anyway.

He squinted at me for a better look. “I’l …be…damned!”

Chapter Nineteen

I could count on one hand the number of times I’d heard my father use profanity, and now he’d done it twice in the same half hour. And to my satisfaction, his voice reflected the amazement I’d hoped to see on his face. Yet no regret for scaring the crap out of me.

I wasn’t embarrassed to have been afraid of my father. Fear was a perfectly reasonable response to an Alpha’s rage. Expected, even. Better cats than I had pissed themselves in terror when an Alpha lost his temper. Fear was normal. And this time, it had also been productive.

He stood and seemed to float toward me, sinking to his knees with an ease and grace he hadn’t displayed in years. He took my chin in his hand, gently this time, and turned my face toward the light. His thumb pulled down my bottom lip for a better look at my teeth, which seemed blatantly unnecessary considering that my mouth wouldn’t close, anyway.

Or maybe I just resented being examined like a horse on an auction block. Especial y after being forced to perform like a circus freak on display.

“Satisfied?” I asked, nearly nicking one of his fingers.

“That is without a doubt the most…amazing thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Um…yes,” Michael stuttered. “It’s…real y something.”

I rolled my eyes at him, wishing he’d been shocked speechless. Yes, I was no doubt hideous compared to his classically beautiful model-wife.

But I’d like to see Holly rip someone’s throat out with those practical y worthless blunt porcelain caps.

“So you believe me now?” I asked, turning back to my father.

“Turn a little more to the left.” He ignored my question, aiming my head without waiting for me to comply. Maybe he hadn’t understood me. Not that it would have mattered if he had.

He squeezed my cheeks until I had to either open my mouth wider or risk cutting myself on my own teeth. “Your jaws are longer, and your teeth are definitely feline,” he said, as if making a diagnosis. “Your tongue is rough, too, but your lips are still human, and I see no sign of fur.”

“Thanks for the rundown,” I mumbled, pulling free of his grasp. I stood and started to brush past my father, desperate for a little personal space after the invasion of my mouth. But before I’d taken even one step, a movement-blurred glimpse of myself in the silver-framed wall mirror stopped me cold. I sank back onto the couch, curling my hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

That one brief, out-of-focus image was more than enough. I didn’t want to know what I looked like. Feeling my teeth with my tongue gave me more information than I could deal with as it was. A partial Shift was great when I needed to rip apart a captor, or see in the dark. But proving my father wrong had lost its novelty, and my self-satisfaction was quickly fading into self-loathing. I hated looking like a monster. Not as badly as I hated looking like a little girl, but almost.

“If you’re satisfied, I’m going to Shift back now,” I lisped, as my father settled onto the couch next to me. And he final y looked impressed.

Good for him. I was Shifting back. But not with them watching me.

Over his sharp protest, I stood again, careful to avoid looking in the mirror as I stepped around the fallen armchair. Turning my back on my father and brother, I reversed the process, which was inevitably easier than the initial change, in the same way that the drive home from any given trip always seems to take less time than the torturously slow trip there.

When everything felt normal and I could speak plainly again, I leaned against the desk with my arms crossed beneath my breasts. “Are you satisfied now?”

He chuckled. “I’m much more than satisfied. I’m elated. I’m astonished. I’m relieved.” He stopped speaking, and I kept waiting. Surely there was more. But there wasn’t. He was done.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

My father frowned in concentration, clearly searching his memory for the omission. “What?”

Michael wiped his glasses with a white cloth from his pocket. “I believe she’s asking for an apology.”

“Of course I am. I deserve an apology!” I insisted. My father’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and my own eyes widened in disbelief.

“You’re not sorry for not believing me?”

“Certainly, I’m sorry you had trouble demonstrating your extraordinary new skill, but it would have been foolish of me to believe something so fantastic without proof.”

I spoke through clenched teeth. “I trust every word you say. Why can’t you give me the same courtesy?”

He frowned. “I’ve earned your trust. I’ve never once lied to you.”

“When have I ever lied to you?” Alarm bells went off inside my head, but it was too late to take the question back.